


redemption is not just about the survival of our soul  (it's about the revival of a soul that was once dead)

by slylyaddictedtostories



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Comfort/Angst, Dark, Davy Jones' Locker, Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Minor Character Death, Missing Scene, Movie: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, Post-At World's End, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-At World's End
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slylyaddictedtostories/pseuds/slylyaddictedtostories
Summary: The torments of the soul are the worst torture a human body can bear. How can a governor's daughter become the most ruthless pirate in the Caribbean? How can a legendary pirate lord be murdered by a girl whom he lied to countless of times? And what exactly is the bond between the sparrow and the swan based upon? Faith? Trust? Destiny?A simple coincidence?Or something far more tantalizing than that...
Relationships: Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	redemption is not just about the survival of our soul  (it's about the revival of a soul that was once dead)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is the first time I am writing a multi-chaptered fic, so bear with me...  
> This will be a series of missing scenes beginning with the end of DMC, throughout AWE and until the very end of it. It follows canon closely, although I took some liberties with the ending. Whether that's good or bad, I guess we'll see :)  
> The main topic will be redemption, as the title clearly states. It's unclear if it's Jack's or Elizabeth's... you'll have to read to find out!  
> Enjoy!

Elizabeth couldn't sleep.

She knew beforehand that there was no way she would be able to shut her eyes and not shudder at the vivid images her twisted mind provided, so she didn't even attempt to fake sleep. She sat perched on a straw chair in Tia Dalma's hut, gripping the dirty mug the woman had offered her as if it was her lifeline. The boiling, bittersweet drink had gone cold a long time ago, but she just couldn't move, not even as much as to extend her arm to put away the cup. She was certain that if she didn't claw desperately at the handle of the mug she would probably be clawing at her eyes. Not that she wouldn't deserve it, but Elizabeth Swann was too much of a coward to punish herself. She cared too much about her wretched self to do her harm.

She flinched as she heard a sharp intake of breath. Will was sleeping across the room, curled up by a corner, huddled next to Marty and Cotton. He began thrashing about slightly and groaned her name as if the simple thought of her caused him physical pain. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the sound, but she was met with visions of a golden grin and a deck bathed in blood and she opened her eyes even more forcefully. Will had stirred in his sleep, dropping his arm over Marty's head. The little man grunted and shoved his hand to the side, mumbling a sleepy "Oy!". Will grumbled an apology and turned to the side, clutching his coat tighter to his body, even though Tia Dalma had started a fire. Elizabeth understood the chill still residing in his bones; she felt that hollowness too, maybe even more so than him. She felt the dried tears clinging to her cheeks like icicles and her hands were stiff and shaking slightly as if her palms were buried in snow. There was a thunderstorm raging inside her, but her limbs felt so heavy she didn't think any hurricane could sweep her off that chair.

That's when a green apple hit her in the head.

She whipped around in her seat so abruptly she almost fell off. She was met with Barbossa's stony look, who made a tight gesture towards the hut's door. She glared at him with all her might and shook her head in denial, with all the dignity she had left. He furrowed his brows in a slightly intimidating manner and pointed to the door again. She shot him a condescending look and turned her head back, refusing to look at him further. Back when she first met him, a look like that would have sent chills down her spine and she _might have_ complied. Now, she was already cold and she was a far more efficient murderer than him because she _actually succeeded in killing Jack Sparrow._ He was nothing compared to her.

But she disregarded the fact that he was still a pirate and a more experienced one than her, as well. So she couldn't stiffle a yelp when he buried his long, filthy nails in her arm and effectively dragged her down from the chair and towards the door. She pushed him aside violently when they reached the porch and shot him poisonous looks. 

"I know how to walk on my own two feet, thank you very much," she growled, rubbing at the soft spot where his nails had dug into. 

He offered her a lewd, cat-like grin and sat down on Tia Dalma's porch. She refused to sit, choosing to stare down at him patronizingly. He met her eyes with an alarmingly calm look, as if studying a broken piece of machinery that would blow up any time soon. She didn't want to acknowledge the accuracy of that statement.

"Interesting to see what became of you, Miss _Turner,_ " he drawled, searching aptly for a reaction mirrored on her face.

"It's Miss Swann," she bit back, contemplating going back inside to not have to bear the weight of that look that Barbossa was giving her. It wasn't hate or amusement... it was something she couldn't quite put her finger on, and that unnerved her terribly.

"My apologies," he smirked at her.

Barbossa whipped out a pistol from beneath his coat and Elizabeth's eyes widened. He couldn't kill her _now,_ there were people inside...

_They couldn't care less about you. You killed their captain. You killed Jack._

But Will was there as well. Will, her friend, her protector, her fianceé. Her blacksmith, her pirate. Her Will would make sure no harm came to her.

_He couldn't care less about you. You kissed Jack. You killed Jack._

Maybe it wouldn't be so tragic if Barbossa pulled the trigger after all...

"Funny things, pistols," he mused, so absorbed in contemplating the gun that Elizabeth could almost believe he was talking to himself. Almost. "Trusty weapons, they are, swift and deadly."

_One pistol with a single shot..._

"What's your weapon of choice, Miss Swann?", Barbossa asked her, drawing out her name in such a way that it sounded foreign to her. Or perhaps it really was foreign and she simply didn't belong to that name anymore. "Pirate" was much closer to the truth than "The Respectable Miss Elizabeth Swann".

She shrugged, involuntarily releasing a shaky breath when she realized he wasn't going to shoot her.

"A sword, I presume," she said, not believing the ludicrous situation that she found herself in: making small talk with the one and only Hector Barbossa, pirate, liar, back-stabbing traitor.

_So, how exactly is he any different than you?_

"Although Jack didn't die by blade, now, did he?" he said, throwing her a knowing glance, as if they shared a secret.

Elizabeth had nothing to share with Barbossa.

"He sunk with his ship," she snapped, each word slashing through her flesh, salted metal sinking in every open wound. 

_Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar..._

"He elected to stay behind, so that the crew would escape."

_So many lies, so many lies, so many lies..._

Barbossa eyed her oddly, as if he couldn't believe that she was trying to make him buy this obviously poorly fabricated tale.

"Such an honorable man, until he drew his very last breath, eh?" he teased, a mocking twinkle glimmering in his dark orbs.

"He was a good man!" she yelled, not caring if she woke up the entire crew. She just couldn't care anymore about anything else other than the pride that had been written on his face and the fear on hers and the feel of his palm in her fingers and _Gods,_ the biting cold of the shackles...

"Good men can't be pirates, missy," Barbossa said, raising his voice a bit, "otherwise they end up fooled and ruined by pretty lasses."

Her chest throbbed as she stoically looked at the rotten wood on the floor.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He stood up so suddenly that she gasped and took a few steps backwards, only to be met with the cold barrel of his pistol pointing straight at her forehead. And there was no vengeful Jack Sparrow to save her now.

"You may have tricked them, with your lovely bonny lass façade, Miss Swann, but I ain't blind like the lot of 'em. Don't get me wrong, I admire anyone who is willing to do whatever it takes to save their skin..."

_Don't get me wrong, love, I admire anyone who is willing to do whatever is necessary..._

"It takes one to know one, after all. No honor among thieves, 'innit? Traitors recognize each other, Miss Swann, and we're kindered spirits, you and I."

_We're very much alike, you and me. I and you. Us..._

_"_ Peas in a pod, so to speak," Barbossa grinned.

She raised her hand and slapped him as hard as she could.

Elizabeth felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been splashed over her, her heart beating so wildly in her chest she thought her abdomen might pop open and all her guts would spill on Tia Dalma's porch. She couldn't breathe, much like when she was trapped in that awful corset and water was filling her lungs. But now, there was no Jack to pull her out, no Jack to save her, no Jack to liberate her. Because she kissed him and chained him to the mast. Because she killed him. Because in the process of tying him up, she also tied a canon ball to her feet and now she was plummeting to the bottom of the sea, so dark and deep and cold. So very cold...

Elizabeth felt like crying again.

Barbossa's malevolent laugh echoed in her ears as her palm stung after the slap. He, on the other hand, seemed unaffected. He put his pistol back in its holster and when his eyes met hers again, she finally recognized the strange look he kept giving her.

_Pity..._

"I would have never taken you as Jack Sparrow's downfall when we first met, Miss Swann," he said, his voice lowering one edge.

She didn't have the power in her to contradict him anymore, partly because she knew it was true.

"I didn't kill him because I wanted to!" she said, but the words felt uncomfortable pouring out of her dry mouth.

_I'm not sorry..._

Barbossa leaned down and she could smell the decay and scent of fresh apples on his breath.

"Why did you do it, then?"


End file.
